


By Any Other Name

by APaletteFullofYou



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Bartender!Viktor, M/M, Most characters appear/are mentioned, Multi, No one here is good at flirting, Phichit gives good and bad advice, Pining, Really Bad Flower Puns, Secret Admirer, florist!yuuri, puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 19:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10472076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APaletteFullofYou/pseuds/APaletteFullofYou
Summary: The hottest topic on the store Instagram—originally established to promote seasonal deals, now expanded for the purpose of embarrassing the employees—details the ongoing saga of notes and arrangements left to be found by floral designer Katsuki Yuuri.For a long time, Yuuri had always thought that the language of romance was flowers, and he was halfway right; he just didn’t expect the other half to be puns.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SupernaturalMystery306](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalMystery306/gifts).



> Written for the Yoi Fic Exchange! Sorry it's a bit different from the prompt but I hope you enjoy it!!

Adoration first appears in the form of lilacs.

Placed in a simple glass vase, the arrangement had lay innocuously on the front desk from afternoon to closing, sunlight to moonlight. Even when the time to lock up and bid farewell homebound coworkers comes, still no one had claimed ownership.   
  
It’s after hanging up his gloves that Yuuri finally notices the flowers, somehow both in and out of place in their position on the countertop, and checks to see if it's an order someone had neglected to pick up or if it was simply put there as decoration.

Instead, he’s surprised to find them addressed “ _To Mr. Katsuki, With Love._ ”  
  
They’re beautiful; not the most aesthetically pleasing with their lopsided placement, a few stalks sticking out in tangents here and there, but the lilacs themselves are absolutely vibrant. Healthy petals and properly cut stems are testament to a sender who seems to have put care into making sure they would stay as fresh as possible.

But in his vehement denial of the possibility of an admirer—though lilacs do symbolize falling in love—the primary suspicion had been Phichit. Yuuri’s birthday was just short of two weeks ago and he’d already received new headphones from the other man, but perhaps his inclination for superfluous gifting had extended yet another year, despite continuous objection.  
  
This notion is easily dismissed after a casual confrontation the next day, wherein Phichit, a bit tired but still geared up after working the morning shift, drops by so that they can continue an installment of the acclaimed _Tales of_ series that had recently been released on Steam. It's a sequel-prequel, lore-exposition type of title, but unfortunately didn't get it's own clear screen time in the anime. Neither had watched said adaption yet, preferring to finish gameplay first so that they can nitpick about it all they want later with justified indignation.  Every once in awhile, meaning usually weekends or days that they have no other engagements to attend to the following morning, they can be found binge playing whatever either thinks would be interesting. 

Most people don’t actually peg Yuuri as the video game type, but he grew on consoles and, to a lesser extent as they weren't nearly as developed back in the day, computer games, loving them dearly from his old handhelds to whatever present systems within the range of his wallet take the market by storm. One—or just Phichit—might even say they _console_ him. Speaking of Phichit, it's important to note that he also loves playing games, which is what had cemented their friendship in the good old days of yore.

In the midst of battle with a  _Code Red_ mini-boss aptly named “Serial Killer Tree,” Yuuri thanks Phichit for the additional gift, to which he had responded with, “huh?”

“The lilacs.”

“I didn’t get you any...?”

Dropping his (Yuuri’s) PS4 controller with the realization that _someone_ had sent his best friend some _long-overdue_ flowers, and leaving his character to die until Yuuri hits pause, Phichit demands that the evidence be brought out for investigation and documentation, all the while leaving him lost to thought.

Who on Earth, then, could’ve sent it?

No a single clear contender comes to mind. When it comes to customers, it's actually rare that Yuuri talks to them to any extensive significance, working mainly from the back of the store on custom orders already sifted through their customer service personnel or email. Many of the ones that come in to personally choose their flowers already have a significant other as well.

Store’s associates, like their various flower suppliers—the most notable being a mid-sized farm a few miles from the city—late night cleaning crew, and partnerships with local shops, are kept at a stiffly comfortable distance despite his status as acting manager. 

And there are plenty of reasons to rule out even the few employees that he regularly interacts with.

For example, JJ, who works the register and does voluntary maintenance during slow hours, is in love with himself.

Jokes aside, he’s also both married and a highly straightforward person who’d present flowers face-to-face instead of in a roundabout manner. Not to mention that he’s honest about enjoying recognition for giving.

The shop’s bookkeeper-floral designer hybrid, Seung-gil, is pretty neutral to everyone except one Phichit Chulanont, who he’s been flirting with for the last few months. Only instead of flirting it’s more like, “your shirt is… good.”

He’s doing his best.

The most likely would be the always kind and attentive Sara—had Yuuri not been certain that any attempt to send flowers would’ve been thwarted (nipped in the bud) by her siscon brother, who drops in during his lunch breaks to threaten the management and occasionally buy something.

All-in-all, the answer comes up nil, so Yuuri decides to push it to the back of his mind and spend his time doing something productive, like wondering what to do for dinner or focusing on brainstorming for the special monthly bouquet design that they’ll release in a matter of weeks.

Since it’s up to him, he’d like to contrast the striking red-white-green arrangement that they've put out every Christmas without fail, since the year this  _Minako’s_ first opened in fact. Looking to the lilacs adorning the kitchen table, he finds a little bit of inspiration; something violet for prosperity, paired with a lively yellow, to usher in a New Year.

* * *

Though they’ve managed so long by Yuuri’s careful tending and tender care, the formerly pristine lilacs have wilted a week and three days later. Flowers aren’t meant to last long after being cut. Such is their ephemeral nature; a man-made memento mori that’s beautiful in the moment, urging Yuuri to sigh at the absence of their fragrance and soft hues, but to keep them committed to memory for years to come.   
  
Today is not for reminiscing, however, for against the odds of Yuuri’s perpetually low expectations, another gift has arrived through the storefront.  
  
Found on the rack with the greeting cards in lieu of the front desk, he slowly turns this second gift in his hands, staring at it out of focus as he mumbles, “I really don’t understand.”

“What’s there not to understand?” asks Phichit, taking a photo of the clumsily-wrapped bundle of sweet peas for the store Instagram. He ponders and trashes it, deciding the right feeling hasn’t been captured yet, and tries again from the left. All this time he’s been insisting it’s to help find Yuuri find his “secret admirer,” whose existence has been further proven by today’s “ _To Mr. Katsuki_ .”  
  
If Yuuri had known the flowers weren’t a one-time thing, or just listened to Phichit when he declared with utmost confidence that it wouldn’t be, then maybe he wouldn’t have agreed to let him do this so easily. Alas, he did—sealed to stone with a pinky promise.

“Someone’s got a crush on you~” teases Phichit in his distinct sing-song know-it-all tune. With a hum and a bounce in his shoulders, he shifts to get just the right angle, compromised only by Yuuri who lifts the flowers to inhale the fresh, sweet scent that matches their namesake.  
  
Knowing he’s doing it just to be petty, Phichit lets out a soft ‘tsk’ in protest for the ruined shot; but joke’s on him cause Phichit snaps a few anyway.   
  
They’re perfect.

Later when Yuuri finds out, although he’ll probably be grateful in the long run, this will definitely makes him both angry and embarrassed as in most cases of unsolicited photos.   
  
“Hey,” Phichit will say when the time of reprimand comes, already rehearsing his convincing bullshit (the tool of his trade as the store’s #1 Sales Clerk) in his mind, “maybe your softly lidded eyes, lit under the gently filtered evening glow will draw out your mystery man.”  
  
“—Mystery person,” he corrects himself. Yuuri doesn’t know nor has the other sent any indication of gender, so he’ll go with this, or maybe just secret admirer again. Searching up some synonyms might be good.

Rubbing a velvety petal in vexation, though of course gently as he'd never purposely compromise the integrity of such fine blooms, or any at all, Yuuri sighs.  
  
“Well," he starts the topic again, "after thinking about it I’m not really sure.”  
  
“About the crush? We've been over this a million times!”  
  
“Well, yeah… but I think this is really the last gift. I mean, I’m not anything special, I don’t understand why anyone would like me? Unlike you I don’t work the counter so I barely talk to anybody either.”  
  
It’s Phichit’s turn to sigh, more of a huff, and reply, “first of all, you’re great. You’re nice to everyone, you’re funny, you like coleslaw and that’s a minus, but come on _so many_ people tell me you have a fantastic ass and that makes up for it a few times over. Fant- _ass-_ tic.”  
  
“You leave my butt out of this,” Yuuri groans. He's a bit self-conscious since he tends to gain and lose weight easily, and it leaves the front more easily than the back. His apron does nothing to fix this problem, but there isn't much he can do about that.  
  
As he finally discerns the absolute best photo from the lot while Yuuri falls into his double-tiered trap, Phichit smiles. “Okay, I guess I’ll butt out.”  
  
“...You win this round.”  
  
There’s a period of relative silence in the breakroom, which is more of a storage area doubling as a breakroom as in most occupations. The only sounds come from the hum of the small fridge situated in the corner and the echoes of feet and conversation in the main part of the store. Both are busy; Phichit with trying to write the perfect caption and Yuuri with his usual excessive contemplation. Phichit wonders if he should stop him from overthought, lest he might backtrack even further and start denying the fact that water is— _the crowd audibly_ _gasps_ —wet.  
  
Yuuri beats him to the punch.  
  
“They sent sweet peas…”  
  
“Yeah, so?” Phichit responds halfheartedly, too busy searching for the right words to frame his picture. And the right emojis.  
  
“Don’t you understand!?” comes the sudden outburst that almost jolts the phone from his hands, “It’s sweet peas! Sweet. Peas.”  
  
A questioning brow is all Phichit can muster, because no, he doesn’t quite understand what’s causing Yuuri’s distress. Sweet peas are pretty great in his opinion.  
  
“Soooo?”  
  
“You know how I said lilacs were first love?”  
  
“ _Oh, flower language. Should’ve guessed_ ,” Phichit thinks, then outloud, “What are sweet peas? Do they mean ‘I’ve burned down your farm?’ or something.”  
  
Turning the flowers over again, Yuuri takes a short breath to explain, “they mean something like departure after a good experience. So goodbye.”  
  
“Oh, just like that? Adios? Bye…Bye-onara?”  
  
“Phichit, please.”  
  
“Sorry. But I think you’re seriously overthinking it again. Look, not everyone knows flower language. And it’s not the same everywhere. Maybe whoever sent it just searched it up on the internet and it said something else, who knows? Anyway, I’m at least 95% certain that they don’t know and just sent the flowers because they want you to have nice things.”  
  
Out of Phichit’s mouth, the sketchy statistic that sounds very compelling. Whoever sent the sweet peas seems knowledgeable about horticulture, and even if they themself aren’t a store clerk that supplied them would be, but it is true that they don’t necessarily have to study up on or even think about the uncommon hobby of flower language when it comes to selection.  
  
“You think so?” he ventures, though the thought of an admirer still gives him mixed feelings. Partially flattery and partially confusion, among others.  
  
With a wide gesture for emphasis, Phichit resolutely claims the positive.  
  
“Alright. I’ll listen to you, I guess. You’re usually right about this kind of thing.”  
  
“Damn right I am.”

Damn right he is.  
  
Phichit knows everything.

“I’m gonna put these in water and get back to work,” Yuuri says with some more liveliness in his tone, rummaging through their pile of containers for one that’s size-appropriate for his new flowers. If there’s no urgent orders to be arranged then he can get back to restocking their Christmas bouquets, which are growing in demand the closer they get to the holiday.  
  
While Yuuri fusses, Phichit backspaces everything he’d written thus far and re-types his caption.  
  
“Sweet peas mean goodbye in flower language :’( Here’s our poor Yuuri mourning (You’re welcome)

Maybe be a little more direct?”

_#Minako’sFloristry #SecretAdmirer #FlowerShopRomance  #SweetPea #Flowers #CuteEmployees #PC:PC_

* * *

It’s a mere three days until Christmas, and as a direct result the shop is bustling with activity as people rush to buy grandiose centerpieces to one-up visiting family members they’re ambivalent towards, and bouquets for the people they love.   
  
For years running, Christmas and the days leading up to it have always been an overflow of people choosing arrangements for their significant others, sometimes even coming in together so that they can pick and mix their favorites.  
  
More recently, Yuuri’s noticed there’s been a rise in those who need a bit of cheer in their personal lives during this time of year, when their sadness is illuminated by the festivities that they feel don’t reach them. Being alone during the Holidays, watching those whom you hold dear spend their time with others, is undeniably lonely.  
  
Sometimes Yuuri feels that way as well, with his family back in Japan and his friends all having plans, but the thing he’s come to learn is that friendship, romance, respect, care, admiration, or whatever someone decides to call "love," should never be an obligation. Everyone deserves love, but expecting someone to hold him as their number one priority in life when there are so many great people in the world and more than enough warmth in their heart for all of them, even if they don’t quite have the time or energy, is just silly. It doesn’t stop Yuuri from feeling a bit lonely, but it comforts him that love does not stop even when people are apart, even when they treasure others at the same time.

So he can completely empathize with customers who come in for some flowers just for themselves. For these people, after he asks for their recipient and receives a shy answer of “oh, just me,” Yuuri can smile and say, “that’s wonderful, I hope you enjoy them.”

Christmas is a time where many will buy bouquets for the people they love, and if you’re feeling lonely, at any time in your life even, perhaps you should get some flowers and love yourself, unabashedly.

* * *

Later this day, the one to find the short, tapered vase stuffed generously with hyacinths is a part-timer named Leo, on his way back from a delivery run. He discerns no customers are around as he sets them on the front counter near Phichit, with a greeting as well as a plastic bag of bottled drinks to share because he is the real MVP.

“This was on the ground outside,” Leo half-yells to Yuuri from the entrance.  
  
Halting his examination of the dubiously hung tinsel and fake holly near the ceiling, which definitely was not there this morning but is now literally everywhere in the store, Yuuri briskly shuffles over and expresses his gratitude.  
  
It’s strange that there’s another gift so soon, and also strange that it was left outside. Then again, the last two times his admirer must have had amazing timing to be able to place something in the store without detection, especially when Phichit or JJ work the register.  
  
With a small sigh, he carries the hyacinths towards the breakroom but, upon realization that the card reading “ _To Mr. Katsuki_ ” is actually a folded note this time, sets them back on the counter.  
  
Over his shoulder, Phichit watches him take each end of the cardstock, or whatever the nice, expensive-feeling material is, between his fingers and pry them apart.  
  
The sender’s handwriting is nice.  
  
It would be even nicer if Yuuri could actually read it—the amount of text crammed into the small space, written in cursive to boot, has Yuuri holding it close up in attempt to decipher the message. Next to him, Phichit whines so he pulls away enough to make room and does what he can with squinting.  
  
“ _Since I first saw you I’ve had trouble thinking of anything else. You brighten up my life with just the grace of your smile and your beautiful brown eyes that stare into my soul, so please accept this token of my extreme passion for you that will never fade. To be completely clear, I am very homosexual and romantically in love with you._ ”  
  
It takes Phichit about five years to stop laughing.

* * *

Later, a post on the Instagram reads, “Actually, maybe be a little less direct.”  
  
_#Minako’sFloristry #SecretAdmirer  #FlowerShopRomance  #Hyacinth #Flowers #PC:PC_ _  
_

* * *

On the Holy Night's Eve, Yuuri accosts his best friend not beneath a sprig of well-placed mistletoe (a few can be found on the rafters), but a _very_ large, poinsettia-covered wreath that wasn’t there the last time he looked. Who it belongs to is also a mystery, because there wasn't anything this big in their already-over-the-top box of Christmas decorations, but that’s not what’s important right now.  
  
“Phichit, I need you to look me in the eye.”  
  
“You mean your beautiful brown eyes that stare into my soul?”  
  
“No! I mean, yes, I guess. I need you to tell it to me straight.”  
  
“I can’t, I am very homosexual.”  
  
“...I’m just gonna ignore that. But tell me, are you completely sure you’re not creating an entire fake persona to send me flowers?”  
  
“Yes. I thought we went over this?”  
  
“Just look at this.”  
  
He shoves the yellow-orange gladioluses into Phichit’s view.  
  
“Hmm, another one? It’s only been two days.”  
  
“Here, read this,” Yuuri says, holding the note and awaiting the worst.  
  
“ _To Mr. Katsuki, WIth Love,_ ” is normal. Phichit isn’t sure what to expect from the inside, but if it’s anything like the last message he might rupture a lung.  
  
But it’s disappointingly toned down, normal. One on top of the other, the sentences say, “ _You’ve pierced my heart,”_ and, “ _I’m always happy to see you_ .”   
  
After a few seconds of staring, Phichit gives up. “I don’t get it. What’s gladiolus in flower language?”  
  
“Phichit it's not that—they’re... puns.”  
  
His face lights up like the Christmas tree in the breakroom—which Yuuri will find out is there the next time he goes in.

* * *

At closing Yuuri volunteers to lock up, again. He doesn’t really have to, because Sara and Seung-gil are both assistant managers with their own sets of keys, but he feels there’s something in the name of acting manager and his promise to Minako-sensei that he’d do his best running the store.  
  
“You ready to go?” Phichit asks from the side, sliding his phone into his pocket after a bout of texting while Yuuri grabs his belongings. Earlier they decided to hang out at a local restaurant with semi-fine dining and a bar, because it’s a bit of a special occasion and they won’t be able to for the next week or so.    
  
Tomorrow is a half-day but it’ll easily be the most hectic of them, sans Valentine’s, that they’ll have to face. It's even worse that only some of the employees, who are single or willing to spend some of their Christmas at work, will be there, but at least the holiday pay makes it somewhat more bearable. Being one of the more-integral workers without any real plans, Yuuri will be throwing himself into managing the shop, probably putting together bouquets until his hands go numb. On the other hand, Phichit is taking time off all the way until a few days after the New Year.  
  
Their destination is just a few blocks by foot. Air inside the shop at any given time of year, and outside is colder during this season, but they bear the chilling winds and temperatures until they reach the sanctuary of a heated room.  
  
“ _The Rose,_ ” is an elaborate establishment situated between a sushi restaurant and some kind of hipster ale shop. In the morning to 5pm, before a transition of mainly putting some ornate table clothes on the already classy tables and breaking out the alcohol, it’s actually a cafe that specializes in artisan blends. One of the co-owners takes over from the morning to afternoon, hours overlapping with Yuuri's most days, and another for the later parts of the afternoon and night. Sometimes they switch, so Yuuri's had the pleasure of seeing both in the store.  
  
It's a place that's disliked by some more traditional—often a euphemism for unable or unwilling to accept change—members of the older crowd for several reasons, the main two being that it’s incredibly informal and has become a popular hang-out spot for LGBT+ customers, despite not being described as such (but by any other name it’d smell just as sweet).  
  
Another flower shop sits on the same block, but the enigmatic owners of  _The Rose_ go out of their way to purchase decorations from _Minako’s_ on a weekly basis. From outside, Yuuri can see some of the centerpieces he put together on the windowsills and tables between seated customers.  
  
Walking in, they’re greeted by the sound of piano music from the mini-stage set up in the corner. It’s not karaoke night, so the live musician is probably one of the owners or a patron who wanted to show off their skills.  
  
A familiar waiter takes the podium and asks if they’d like to be seated, though just as a formality since Phichit declines and drags Yuuri off to an empty space at the bar, as he always does. Neither are planning to get piss drunk, but his excuse is that he likes the feel of the chairs better. Yuuri is half certain that he just wants to talk to the bartender, who's one of the co-owners and also insanely beautiful, but he can’t blame him, he really can’t. To be completely honest he enjoys talking to him too, and wouldn’t have the courage to go and sit at the bar alone, so Phichit coming with him is a blessing.  
  
The man, gorgeous blue eyes and all, is wiping up some spilled scraps when they seat themselves.  
  
Phichit calls out his name to get his attention, plopping down with a side-smirk at Yuuri, who’d forgotten that coming with him is also a curse.  
  
“Hi, Viktor,” comes the slow and flustered follow-up.  
  
“Oh, hi! Phichit, How are you?” Viktor exclaims, putting down his wet washcloth. “And Yuuri,” he says with a smile brighter than the sun, looking right at him as he continues:  
  
“I’m glad to see you.”


End file.
